Tibetans, Touts and Tourists from Tel Aviv

Hello from Chandigarh or if you're brave enough to sample some of the street food here, Chunderfar might be a more appropriate name.

We filed our last report just after we arrived in Mcleod Ganj, a former British hill station. For those of you who were not around in the days of the Raj, hill stations are mountain villages where the British army would spend the Summer months away from the oppressive heat of the towns lower down the valley. Our journey there took 8 hours from Amritsar and cost less than GBP 1 each, albeit on a local bus. Now, we had heard about Indian bureaucracy but were still quite surprised to receive 13 bus tickets for our journey. I think they must have issued a ticket for every stop along the route. Today, Mcleod Ganj is the headquarters of the Tibetan government in exile and home to the Dalai Lama. The town is a real mecca for tourists and there are plenty of backpackers there trying to 'find themselves' although many looked so high on the local baccy they could be searching for a pretty long time. Every shop is selling either Tibetan souvenirs or offering yoga/massage/meditation courses and there is no shortage of takers. The place is full of hippies, not only new age ones but the original lot from the sixties. As we arrived, we could here the dulcet tones of Donovan singing 'Mellow Yellow' coming from one of the cafes which set the scene perfectly.

The streets are very narrow with lots of nooks and crannies and reminded us of Mevagissey in Cornwall (without the chip shops, of course). It is a very atmospheric place.

There are very few Indians to be seen, as the population, apart from the long stay tourists, is almost wholly Tibetan. Sadly, there are a lot of beggars on the streets, many with appaling deformaties. Quite a number escaped Tibet when the Chinese invaded and came here via the high Himalayan passes. On the way they endured severe frostbite and, as a result, many lost their limbs. They may have escaped with their lives but some of them are in such a poor state, it really makes you question whether it would have been better to have perished. We saw several using contraptions like square skateboards as they didn't even have the ability to shuffle along.

We again consulted the 'Lonely Planet' guide book for our accommodation and picked out a budget guest house. Although they had one room left, it was one without a view (almost impossible to find in Mcleod Ganj)and therefore was only half the rate of the other ones. We waited for what seemed an age for the hotel owner to make out 27 (I kid you not) copies of our hotel registration form. We then paid over our 4 quid before making ourselves at home. It was a perfectly adequate room but we found the bed was harder than the marble floor it stood on so, being the big girls blouses that we are, de-camped to another, slightly more pricier, hotel for our second night.

The sights of Mcleod Ganj can easily be covered in a day and that is allowing for visits to a couple of other nearby villages. As always, we arranged our onward transportation soon after we arrived. This is pretty essential in India due to the bureaucracy and not having a hope in hell of getting a seat on anything posher than a cattle truck if you don't book. We booked two seats on a de-luxe bus for the 10 hour trip to Manali, our next destination. As there is only the one bus a day and it leaves at 8.30pm in the evening, we arranged it for the second day after we arrived just so that we wouldn't feel rushed.

A big advantage of the town is that proper Western food is readily available. Although lots of restaurants in all of the places we have visited advertise English, Continental or Chinese cuisine, it is not what you or I would describe it as. In this part of India, they like their food particularly hot and spicy irrespective of what it is you are eating. Masala's or Korma's which we tend to think of as mild can literally render your mouth radioactive if you're not careful. Even familiar dishes such as Tomato Soup or Chinese Vegetable Spring Rolls can be almost inedible due to their hot spicy flavour. If you ask, they are quite happy to prepare them with no spices but you get some strange looks.

The main attraction of the town is the Tsuglagkhang Complex which comprises the official residence of the Dalai Lama, the Namgyal Gompa (a covered area where you can watch the monks debating), the Tibet Museum and the Tsuglagkhang (Central Chapel) itself.

It was obvious that nobody had forewarned the Dalai Lama that we were coming that morning and on arrival we found that he had popped down to the shops, probably to buy some more prayer wheels. We couldn't hang around all day for him so decided to check out the debating monks. These guys are supposed to be peaceful but it looked like quite a few were getting on their high horse about something judging by the way they were stamping their feet and pointing their fingers. We lost the thread of what they were saying, mainly coz they were talking Tibetan, so decided to have a look around the Tsuglagkhang. This is the equivalent of the Vatican in Rome for Catholics and was pretty impressive.

We then went to have a look at the Museum which tells the story of the Tibetan people and their struggle against the Chinese. It was a very sombre place and included video clips of the Chinese police beating up local residents in Lhasa. We saw several people in tears including a number of young Tibetans whom we assumed were descendents of those who escaped. Although in Mcleod Ganj you are obviously only hearing one side of the story but you are left in no doubt about how brutal the Chinese police were and how downtrodden the people of Tibet are today thanks to the policies of the Chinese government towards that region.

After lunch of some Tibetan concoction, we decided to walk it off with a gentle 4 mile circular walk taking in the villages of Dharamkot and Bhagsu. Not surprisingly, it was all uphill to Dharamkot and just as we were looking forward to the downhill section via Bhagsu back to Mcleod Ganj, the heavens decided to open, fortunately just as we arrived at the first refreshment shack in Dharamkot. More rain fell in the next hour than falls in the whole of the UK in April and we were informed to go back the way we came as the road to Bhagsu was very steep and would only be passable wearing scuba gear. We thanked the shack owner for our two teas, two cokes, two buns and a bar of chocolate as we handed over a note worth less than 50p. Don't you just hate these places that take advantage of poor innocent travellers trying to shelter from the weather?

Back in Mcleod Ganj we sadistically enjoyed taking some photos of a holy man willing to whip himself black and blue for 10 rupees. I hate to think what he would have done if we had given him a 50 rupee note and said 'keep the change'.

We retired to a small restaurant with stupendous views for yet more Tibetan stodge.

Incidentally, one or two of you have queried the believability of my epic weight loss and have, God forgive you for doubting me, even asked for proof by way of a side-view photo. I'm sure you will agree how co-incidentally unfortunate this is, but having unknowingly ordered something unpronounceable from the Tibetan menu only to find it was a large helping of meat and vegetable dumplings in a thick soup, I regret we were unable to take the photo as planned the following morning as any noticeable difference might not have been quite so obvious. I thank you for your understanding and look forward to meeting your request by the latest, March 2007.

The following morning, we decided to visit Dal Lake. This visit was inspired by one of our film-making friends who shot a beautiful film on this lake some years ago. Always one of our favourite films, we were really looking forward to seeing this peaceful spot for ourselves. Oh dear, what a disappointment! It soon became obvious on arrival that there must be two Dal Lake's in India as this lake was hardly bigger than a dinner plate and came complete with children's pedalos instead of the serene fishing boats we were expecting. We ended up spending only 10 minutes there before deciding to go to the town of Dharamsala which has a bazaar although not many other attractions. After a few hours, we headed back to Mcleod Ganj for an early dinner before our de-luxe bus journey to Manali.

Like you, we were intrigued as to why most long distance bus journeys depart at a time which gets you to your destination in the wee hours of the morning.
We think it is because the agents office you buy your ticket from is almost guaranteed to be closed at that time and therefore you can't go back to wrap a cricket bat round his head for trying to scam you. Needless to say, our de-luxe 36 seater bus (which he showed us a picture of at the time of booking) turned out to be a 15 seater mini-van with no suspension and built for dwarves. Now, nobody has ever called me 'Lanky' in my life and for good reason but my head was about 1 inch from the ceiling. The other passengers were Dutch and Israelis and several, like us, stood dumbfounded outside the bus not believing this would get to the end of the street, let alone 250 miles to Manali. After the bus wallah assured us this was indeed our super de-luxe bus, our rucksacks were unceremoniously thrown into the boot and a demand for 20 rupees was made. OK, we only paid 4 quid each which included the agents commission for this epic journey and it seemed churlish to argue about another 25p but as far as I and several of our Dutch friends were concerned, it's the principle of the matter. Having stuck a middle finger up and said 'swivel on that' we told the bus boys that they would get their 20 rupees when (and if) our bags got to Manali. The driver who spoke a little English explained the situation to them and although they weren't happy, there wasn't much they could do. It turned out they weren't happy as they were local lads from Mcleod Ganj and, of course, would never see their money.

Before getting on, we checked with some of the other backpackers how much they had paid for their ticket and were at least comforted by the fact that they had all paid the same as we had. Having boarded the bus, we took our allotted seats as did everyone else and it was soon full. Just as we were about to depart, two more Dutch people turned up, ticket in hand, querying why someone else was sitting in their seats (fortunately, not ours). They were told 'No problem' (a favourite Indian saying heard everywhere when in fact it is a major problem) and were requested to sit on the wheel arch inside the drivers cab. For some strange reason, they weren't that keen on spending 10 hours with their knees around their necks and refused to get off the bus until their money was refunded. The bus wallah said he had no money on him and that they would have to visit 'his office' the following morning. Still refusing to budge, the Dutch couple asked if anyone had a mobile phone so that they could call the Police. This didn't seem to phase the bus wallah one iota, however another Dutch guy on the bus who stood about 6' 6" in his socks went up to him and said 'Give her the money back NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW'! After turning a whiter shade of pale, the bus wallah took out a wad of notes from his pocket and meekly handed 'em over. A loud cheer went up. The girl thanked the bus passenger, apologised for holding everyone up and got off the bus. We were finally on our way about 30 minutes later than planned. And then it began.......the Israelis made themselves right at home. Off came the shoes and socks, out came the walkmans, video games, mobile phones and enough food and drink to keep Ethiopia fed for the next 10 years. One decided to commandeer the very small aisleway between the seats as his personal bedding space and out came the sleeping bag. The two girls happilly rested their feet on the back of the Dutch couples head who happened to be sitting in front. They then spent the whole journey having loud conversations in Hebrew which sounds like you have a pint of phlegm in your throat as opposed to the half pint which you need to speak Welsh.

The bus stopped for what is laughingly called a 'refreshment break' some 3 hours into the journey. This was at a typical roadside stall found all over India and as usual was full of boiling cauldrons of indescribable sludge. The loo, which was 50 yards behind the stall, could be smelt before the bus even stopped so we already knew we would be watering the aloo gobi on the roadside itself. Having bought our packet of crisps, we reboarded the bus and looked forward to our second stop in about 3 hours time. Our hopes were dashed however as time dragged on and on and the Hebrew got more throaty. It became clear that there would be no further stops as the bus driver put his foot down to make up for lost time. The fact that we were on twisting mountain roads full of potholes made absolutely no difference and our knuckles were becoming whiter and whiter as we gripped the seat in front to stop us continuously bouncing our heads off the roof. Not only did we make up the lost time, we were going so fast we actually arrived in Manali over an hour earlier than the scheduled time. We conveniently forgot the 20 rupees as our rucksacks were unloaded into the hands of the rickshaw wallahs lining up to take us to a hotel of their choice. In a previous report I have already mentioned that Asia is a 24 hour place and you can get almost anything day or night. In many towns, 3.00am in the morning is no different than 3.00pm in the afternoon. The streets are just as busy with people going about their business. The downside of this is that the cycle and auto-rickshaw wallahs plus the taxi and hotel touts are out in their hundreds just waiting to prey on unsuspecting newbies to town.

Having wrestled our rucksacks from their hands on to our own backs, we were beseiged by hotel touts thrusting their business cards in our face saying 'cheap price', 'very cheap price'. We have quickly learnt that the easiest way to deal with this constant hassle be it from touts or beggars is to simply deny their existance. We don't say anything and we don't look at them. We simply keep on walking. They are much more persistant in India than they were in Pakistan but eventually they do give up and look for their next victim. During our stay in Manali, one guy trying to sell us a chess set for 800 rupees (about 9 quid) followed us for 15 minutes all the way to our hotel from town and by the time we arrived, the price was 150 rupees and we hadn't said a word. He didn't give up until we had closed our bedroom door behind us.

The hotel we had chosen could not accommodate us for the 3 nights we planned to stay in town so we went off searching for an alternative. We tried several before settling on one five minutes walk from town. It was a very basic room but again had fantastic views over the hills and was only 4 GBP a night.

During the Summer months Manali is full of Westerners as this is the starting point for the 2 day bus trip up to Leh in Ladakh. It goes over the second highest navigable road in the world so is very popular. However, we arrived just as the season was ending and saw only a handful of other Westerners. Most backpackers do not stay in Manali itself but head for Old Manali or Vashisht, a couple of villages a few miles further on in the hills. We got an auto-rickshaw to both of these places and found them full of character. We could certainly see their charm.

We booked the next stage of our journey which was another 10 hour overnight trip to Chandigarh. This time we chose an agent close to the bus station so that we could bury him alive if there were any problems. He showed us a picture of the bus we would be travelling on which looked fine and then relieved us of 7 quid before handing us our ticket with allocated seat numbers. He told us to report to his office half an hour before the bus was due to depart so that he could give us the bus number.

Manali itself doesn't have many attractions of its own and we took things relatively easy during the time we spent there. We really used it as a stopping off point to break our journey.

One thing that we haven't mentioned about India so far and which Manali seems to suffer from more than the other places we have been is.....dogs. They are everywhere. Not cute cuddly pet dogs but wild strays which go around in packs. There are literally hundreds of them on the streets and in the early morning or late at night it can be very intimidating. We came out of a restaurant one evening in Manali at around 11.00pm and had a 10 minute walk back to our hotel. As we looked up the main street, there they were, several packs of 10 or 12 dogs just standing there staring or walking around. They were all different breeds and there was a lot of fighting between themselves.

At 6.00pm on the night of our departure we went to the agents office and he provided us with the bus number. We went straight to the bus station where we were pleased to see the bus was as described. Furthermore, the passengers milling about all appeared to be Indian rather than other backpackers which we felt was also a good sign.

We boarded and took our seats and the bus departed at the scheduled time with only half the seats taken. In the next hour we covered about 10 miles and stopped several times picking up individuals and the bus started to fill up slowly. We made a final stop at a small town and we saw 3 Westerners approaching. By now there were only 3 seats left on the bus, the two in front of us and one immediately behind.

These Westerners were all about 18 years old and as they got on they yelled out 'Hello' as loud as they could down the bus, got their cameras out and proceeded to take continuous flash photos of the passengers for the next 5 minutes. The bus wallah told 'em to sit down but one of them just put his arm round him and had his girlfriend take a bunch more photos. They finally sat down but continued shouting to each other in what we immediately recognised as 'Hebrew'. They then took their shoes and socks off, put their seats right back so that Jo and I could barely breath and made themselves right at home. They then decided to entertain the bus passengers by playing the bongo drums which they also had with them. The driver then turned out the lights inside the bus so that passengers who wanted to sleep, could do so. This was the signal for these Israelis to start taking more flash pictures of each other blinding everybody in the process. When they finally settled down, they tried to push the seats into a horizontal position but my kneecap in the guys back forced him to pull his seat back to the upright position. Jo got her own back by pushing her seat back as far as possible into their friends lap who was sitting behind her.

After 3 hours we had a refreshment stop where once again the only food guaranteed not to poison you was a bag of crisps. Jo decided to brave the loo and to be quite honest, she did very well indeed. She actually got within 20 yards of it before being forced back by the stench with the rest of the other women. As all of these women were Indians, I guess that about says it all.

Jo had little choice but to try and hold it in until the next refreshment stop in the hope that the facilities there would be better. The Israelis meanwhile were taking pictures of the staff at this roadside stop although judging by their faces, they weren't impressed with them either. We re-boarded the bus and they settled down for the next hour until the bus swerved and braked real hard after narrowly missing a lorry coming around a corner too wide. The loudest of the three decided to open the drivers cabin which was accessible from the passenger side and told him in no uncertain terms what he thought of Indian drivers. This went down like a lead balloon and the driver just put his foot down even more. Believe me, we were soon saying our prayers as he drove at 70 mph on potholed mountain roads, overtaking on blind bends with his horn constantly going. Nobody was going to tell an Indian how to drive! What made it worse was that we were almost in complete darkness for the next 6 hours (Oh, did I not mention, there was no further stop) and it was exactly like being on the 'Space Mountain' ride at Disneyland but without the pleasure of seeing Jupiter to your right as you were being thrown around the vehicle.

Every time we swerved the Israeli's were shouting out, what I took to be, Hebrew swear words. We got to Chunderfar almost 1-1/2 hours early which would normally be a blessing but we wondered how many hotels would be open at 3.30am in the morning. The Israelis continued to cause havoc, giving us a final rendition on their bongo drums as everyone alighted from the bus and then they started taking more flash photos of all the rickshaw wallahs who were lining up to take us to the hotels of their choice. I can honestly say that if someone had handed me an application form to join Hammas, I would have had no hesitation in signing it there and then.

Israelis are banned from entering more countries than any other nation on earth. As far as I'm concerned, the ban is nowhere near extensive enough.

Like Mcleod Ganj, Chunderfar is a very unique town in India. It is India's greenest, cleanest and most prosperous city and has the feel and look of Milton Keynes. It is the vision of a Frenchman called Le Corbusier and his plan was to divide the city up into numbered sectors, each 1km square. There are roundabouts at every intersection and pedestrianised shopping malls in the centre. It is the most expensive place to live in the country and it has its fair share of yuppies. Unfortunately, it was built in the late 1950s/early 1960s and we all know that was about the worst period for ugly buildings. Much of the architecture is now looking really dated and is literally falling apart at the seams. The traffic is still as chaotic as elsewhere in India and stray dogs are everywhere.

Having done our research, we already knew where the hotels we wanted to try were located and they were all within a 10-15 minute walk of the bus station. The rickshaw drivers of course knew better and tried to persuade us that they were miles away or were full. This is a common scam in India, simply so they can take you to a cruddy hotel of their choice and get commission from the hotel owner. We just ignored all their shouts and walked towards the first one on our list.

You just wouldn't believe the number of sleeping bodies we had to step over and around that were just lying there in the roadway, on the pavements, in doorways, anywhere there was a space to lie down. We learned that many of these were paper sellers waiting for the first editions to come out so they could deliver them all around the City and others were rickshaw drivers fearing the theft of their vehicles but most seemed to be outside to escape the intense heat inside buildings with no air conditioning. Amongst these motionless bodies, were again hundreds of dogs, some asleep, some prowling, many barking and many fighting. We wondered how on earth these people sleeping on the streets could put up with the dogs not to mention the various types of wildlife crawling and flying around them.

Surprisingly, the hotel door was open and we saw that the gun toting guard and receptionist were asleep on the floor just inside the door. They weren't a bit put out that we turned up at this unearthly hour and were delighted to show us a de-luxe double room. (There is no such thing as a double room in India.....they are all de-luxe). This was a mid-range hotel and cost around 15 quid a night. The night porter told us to leave our bags in the room and come down to register but we wanted to know if they were going to charge us for that night. We got the usual 'No problem' reply. We said 'Yes, big problem if you are going to charge us' but as it became obvious we were not going to sign anything until we got an answer, he finally admitted that we would be charged the full rate. We went back to the room, picked up our bags and left telling him why we were doing so. We felt sure he would relent as most Indians do once they think you are not going to close a deal but this time he wouldn't budge. We moved on to our next choice about 100 yards down the road but it was full. As it was the only budget one in town, we figured the Israelis were probably holed up there anyway and it was just as well there were no vacancies.

We then went to our third choice. Again the door was open and both the guard and the receptionist were asleep on a nearby couch. We apologised for disturbing them but they were as happy as the first lot to show us a room and give us the guided tour of the place. This turned out to be a very comfortable room for a reasonable price and they said they would not charge us for that particular night. We had found our resting place for our stay in Chunderfar. We were intending to stay at least 4 nights to get some laundry done, catch up on the blog and generally have a restful time before taking on the chaos of one of the most polluted cities in the world, New Delhi.

We slept in late and when we awoke decided to just wander around the sector we were in. There are around 55 sectors to Chunderfar but only two or three are of any interest to tourists as most of them are purely residential. Our hotel along with most of the others is in Sector 22 and the shops and bus station are in Sector 17 which is literally across the road (Dont ask. As with all towns on a grid plan, the supposedly easy layouts get very confusing). Most of the other sights worth seeing are all in Sector 1. They probably had a blitz of tourist attractions when the town was first built but then run out of ideas from Sector 2 onwards.

Most of the shops seem to be the high class emporiums which attract the type of people who live here. However, not all the residents have money to throw about and we have still seen our fair share of beggars, mainly children in rags. We were happy to note that there were 2 Pizza Huts as well as a KFC for when we got fed up of the over-spiced local food.

That evening we decided to eat in a Chinese restaurant called 'Yo China' which advertised 'Chinese Food at Chinese Prices'. We thought that if the Indians think it's cheap, we can't go wrong. They were right. It cost around GBP 3.00 for a very satisfying meal for us both.

The following morning we headed for the bus station to book our train tickets. Yes, you did read that right. The railway reservation office is at the bus station. If you want to see bureaucracy at its craziest, just buy a rail ticket in India. Firstly, you have to line up at one particular window to acquire a requisition form. Without one of these, you won't be going anywhere. The form requires you to supply details of Train Number and Name (no clue as to where you are supposed to get this information from), Date of Journey, Class of seat you want (there are around 15 of these but again, unless you know what they are.....), Departure Station, Arrival Station, Where you are boarding the train (which apparently is different to the Departure Station)and your Final Destination (which apparently is also different to your Arrival Station). You then have to fill in your Name, Gender, Age and if you are eligible for a concessionary fare. There are 85 different concessions from being a member of the Punjab National Party to having Leukaemia. They also want your address in the UK, Mobile Telephone Number and Passport Number.
We wrote on the back of the form.....and the answer to your next question is 'Once a night and twice on a Sunday'.

You then have to queue up at one of the other 10 windows (fortunately, they have a special window for senior citizens, foreigners and VIPs (We figured we qualified on all 3 counts)). Now this queue takes almost as long to go down as the journey to Delhi itself so 2 hours later we made it to the front and handed our form over. We were dripping buckets by this time as they only had one fan working for the entire booking hall. After going through the whole form again verbally as he typed the details on a computer that was old when Noah was alive, a nearby printer spewed out our ticket which still managed to have Jo's name spelt incorrectly. We were advised by someone in the queue that it was better to go for Executive Class if we could afford it rather than Standard Class even on a 3 hour journey as the difference in comfort and food (which apparently the railway provide) is considerable. So 9 quid lighter, we finally got out of the booking hall 2-1/2 hours after entering it. Oh joy!!!

Our next stop was the Chunderfar Tourist Office which fortunately was next door to the railway booking office. We needed a letter from them giving us permission to visit 3 of the top tourist sights in the city namely, the Secretariat, the Assembly and the High Court. We secured this without too much trouble although we had to go through a sales pitch from the tourist chief trying to flog us a glossy souvenir book about Chunderfar which would have needed its own porter to carry. We politely declined.

Most of our afternoons are spent in Internet Cafes where it is usually cool as it really is no fun walking around in this heat but on this occasion we decided to take the city tour by open-topped double decker bus as we thought that was a way of staying cool. We turned up at the departure point only to find that we were the only two tourists and they needed a minimum of 4 to run. They told us to come back the following morning.

The following morning we turned up for the 9.30am tour (they supposedly leave every hour)and just wanted to go for the ride rather than 'Hop On - Hop Off' which was advertised as an option. We naturally expected to get back for 10.30am as there was only the one tour bus. Fortunately, there were 5 other tourists (all Indian) so the tour did run. The conductor sold us our 50 rupee (GBP 0.60) tickets and said we would be back at 1.30pm. Hmmmmmm! We tried to get an explanation but, as with most things in India, it's easier to just go with the flow. We pulled away and not five minutes later were outside the 'Rose Garden', one of Chunderfar's main attractions. We were told to get off the bus, walk through the gardens and the bus would meet us at the gate on the far side in 15 minutes time. Now, we weren't too happy with this as we had planned to visit that place another day. Still, we dutifully did as we were told and got back on the bus. Less than 5 minutes later we stopped again, this time at the Punjab University. We were told we had 15 minutes here also but quite frankly, 15 seconds would have been too long. Apart from dated concrete monstrosities, there was nothing to see. Back on the bus, we went to our next attraction, The Bougainvillea Garden. This was exactly like the Rose Garden except it had Bougainvilleas in it......Yawn! We were then taken to a complex which had the Natural History Museum, The City Museum, An Art Gallery and a Sculpture Park plus an Exhibition Hall. We were allowed a generous 30 minute stop here to see everything. The City Museum alone would have taken a week as it was on 5 levels. We opted to take a few photos in the Sculpture Park. Back on the bus, we went another 100 yards before stopping at the 'Rock Garden'. Now, as far as we were concerned the 'Rock Garden' was to be the highlight of our visit to Chunderfar as we planned to make a film there because it sounded so interesting. Designed by a guy called Nek Chand it consists of all kinds of objects fashioned from industrial and urban waste set in a garden full of grottos and waterfalls. We were told to be back on the bus in one hour. This, as it turned out, was ridiculous as it would take at least two just to walk round and view the objects at a quick pace. On the way out we were stopped by a local who was over the moon that people from the UK should visit his local area and wanted his photo taken with us. He requested that we send him a copy of the picture. Meanwhile, the bus driver was getting more irate at having to wait for us and started blowing his horn frantically. Not in a hurry ourselves, we waved back at him and turned round to continue our chat with this ever so friendly local. Several minutes of tooting later, we strolled slowly to the bus and got on without saying a word. Our final stop was at a lake not 2 minutes walk from the 'Rock Garden'. The driver said we had 35 minutes there but again, we felt that was 30 minutes too long. You've seen one lake, you've seen 'em all and this was really nothing special. We lost sight of the bus driver but told one of the other passengers that we had had enough and were getting a rickshaw back to base camp. As we only paid 60p for a 4 hour tour, we can't really complain but it was frustrating having only a short time at the places that required several hours and having too long a time at some of the less interesting places. If the idea was to give you a taster of these attractions, it didn't really work as we questioned whether it was really worth going back to any of them.

We drowned our sorrows in another Internet Cafe and looked forward to another sumptuous Chinese feast that evening. We picked a place on the other side of town which turned out to be one of the best so far. The place was full (as are most restaurants in the evening) but we were the only non-Indians in there and so were given special treatment. We have discovered that despite the uniqueness of Chunderfar, it doesn't attact many tourists and certainly not the backpacker brigade in any number.

The following morning with our 'letters of permission' in hand, we headed for the complex housing the Secretariat, the Assembly and the High Court. Our first stop was the Secretariat which is really the administrative headquarters for the Assembly. Having gone through 4 security checks on the outside, we were then taken to 3 different offices on the inside for more form filling and passport checking. Two armed guards were assigned to us and we went straight to the lift and the attendant pressed the button marked 'roof'. We wondered what uncalled for comment Tony Blair had made now about India and were we about to be thrown off head first. No worries as we were shown Chunderfar from up high. It looked very green with lots of roundabouts.......just like Milton Keynes. We then took the lift back down, went through the same security checks on the way out despite the guards having all our details in front of them and were finally allowed to leave the building. We noticed a poster on the wall showing the various identity passes that staff carried and there were 45 of them. Unbelievable!

We then walked over to the Assembly building. This is the equivalent of a County Council office in England and we had assumed we would be seeing the Assembly in session. After only two security checks this time, we were taken to the chamber which was in marked contrast to the rest of the building. From the outside the building looked like an East End tower block and once inside, it resembled a crumbling, wind-swept underground car park. It was a real monstrosity like most of the concrete buildings that Chunderfar is famous for. However, the chamber itself was very arty and quite a beautiful room and reminded us of the London Planetarium. We learned that the Assembly only meet on 9 days of the year and today wasn't one of them, however it was worth going in just to see the architecture.

We then went over to the High Court building (another concrete monstrosity), expecting to see the courts in session. After being given very poor directions, we eventually found ourselves in the Logistics Office where we had all our details checked again, given security clearance and sent back down to yet another security area who told us we were now free to wander around as we liked. Huh! We asked which way we should go and what there was to see but all we got was 'No problem....OK'. All we could see were various offices and hundreds of people walking about but nothing of any interest whatsoever, so our visit there lasted about 5 minutes. We are convinced that the reason for seeing all 3 buildings is purely for the architecture. The tourist blurb says that visitors from all over the world come to admire it but I think they are mistaking visitors for would be demolition experts. The city is a perfect example of how not to construct buildings. Fancy asking a French man in the first place......one look at Calais would have told 'em that wasn't a good idea.

Our next despatch will probably be from New Delhi and who knows what wonders that place holds. Whatever they are, you can be sure you will read about 'em here first.

Take care.

Love
Mike and Jo
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